


Not Cut Out

by skittleluvr



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cute, Depression, Drama, F/M, Fallout, Fallout 4 - Freeform, Fluff, Gore, Romance, Self-Harm, Sex, Smut, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Support, lots of dumb fluff, only 23 years, relationship, reunited, seriously I love fluff, sole is young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittleluvr/pseuds/skittleluvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad at titles, bad at summaries, but here we go, oboi<br/>Annalise is released from her cryopod 210 years after the bombs dropped, when her life was almost perfect. She had a loving husband and had recently added onto the family. She had given up an old habit for nearly eight years. But then she loses it all, and she has no idea how to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give it Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I write as a way of coping and dealing with my problems. Especially when I write about the characters solving said problems. If you don't like the subject matter, don't read. I'm going through a hard time right now and this is one of the healthy ways that I like to cope. Hope you enjoy. Sorry this chapter is so long.

I hear the hiss of my cryopod defrosting as I slowly come to. Nate is dead. My body is cold and numb. Shaun has been kidnapped. My thoughts are a blur as the lid of the pod is lifted. I try to take a step and instead collapse onto the ground, the fabric of the legs of my vault suit becoming damp with the freezing water that has collected as a result of my defrosting.

"What the hell?" I shout to the empty room as I stand up feebly. No one is here. I quickly walk to the panel of Nate's pod and slam my fist onto the button. The mechanisms start up, filling the room with echoing spring locks, accompanying the deafening blare of the alarm. The pod isn't opening fast enough and I continue to slam my fist down over and over again until the plastic cover breaks and I bring my fist down onto the exposed wiring and metal structure underneath. 

I quickly recoil my hand as the wire shocks me and the metal cuts into the side of my hand. I quickly forget about it and approach Nate slowly. He's dead. I lean over and wretch as the sugar bombs and coffee from this morning hit the ground. I continue to cough and heave, eventually collapsing onto the ground, my face in the puddle of freezing water. It soothes my cheeks which are now burning, despite thawing only moments ago. 

My chest aches. This morning I was holding Shaun and tickling his stomach and joking with Nate about going to the park and repeating certain events that led to Shaun. And now he's gone and Nate is... 

I can't bring myself to think it. He can't be... Today he was kissing me good morning and I was reassuring him about his speech at the Veteran's Hall. This morning my life was perfect. And now, my life is gone. Everything I have ever come to know and enjoy and love and cherish is gone. I want to cry but it hurts too much. I want to curl up into a ball and die. But I can't. I need to find Shaun. Where is my baby? It's only been a few hours, right? They couldn't have gone that far, right? 

I want to rationalize that I need to keep going on for Shaun. But I can't. 

Inside the band of my bra, I've always kept a blade. When Nate met me, we were both seventeen. I had silvery marks on my forearms and thighs. Nate never cared. He told me I was beautiful, despite what I thought. And when we were only twenty, he proposed. I was always happy with Nate. The silver scars soon faded into nearly invisible white lines and I forgot what had even made me do it in the first place. But I always kept the blade in the band of my bra. It was comforting. That was the one thing I could never give up. It soothed my anxiety. Nate pleaded with me to get rid of it. He would find where I hid it while I slept and throw it out, but I always replaced it. I could never let it go.

When I found out I was pregnant with Shaun, I didn't carry it as often. Only on days when I was worried or anxious. When they said something was abnormal with Shaun at thirty weeks, I carried it constantly until things were okay. It was somehow comforting knowing I had the choice, I could do it if I wanted to. I never did, but it was my choice nonetheless, no one could take it away from me. On my twenty third birthday, one week overdue with Shaun, I kept it in my pocket. That made Nate especially upset but he knew I could never get rid of it. It was the one constant, especially now. The one thing that I can rely on with all the sudden shit that has been thrown my way.

I reach for it, careful not to nick my side or fingers in the process. I eye it carefully, inspecting the shiny metal. It's been eight years since I swiped the blade across my wrist. Eight years of getting my life back from the grips of depression. And here I am, debating whether or not I should mutilate my own body, just to feel pain on my own terms. To hurt on my conditions. To weep from the cuts when I say it's okay. 

The alarm continues to blare, the cryopods continue to drip. Everything in the room continues. Except for me, except for my life. 

I bring the sharp edge to my wrist and give the blade a small test. It's a new one, I only just bought it last week, after a disagreement with Nate. He threw away my old one and I left to get a new one. My life was going great and Nate didn't understand why I couldn't accept that I was allowed to be happy, and that I was allowed to let go of the ties to a depressing past. I argued that it was his choice to marry me and it was his choice to stay. The words slapped him hard in the face and I instantly regretted it. I tried to apologize but instead he just ran into our bedroom and grabbed the blade from my dresser, flushing it down the toilet. I broke down and collapsed in the bathroom sobbing. Codsworth asked if he should phone someone for help. 

Nate told him not to and instead sat down on the hard bathroom floor next to me, hugging me tightly. When I convinced him I was okay, I left to get a new one. And now I'm pressing it ever so gently into my wrist, carefully dragging it across my arm, waiting for the blood to bead around the small cut and slide down my wrist. The cut is slight, it will close up and start healing before the day it done. What am I going to do for the rest of the day? What is left for me? What if I'm the only person left in that nuclear wasteland? What if everyone was either disintegrated in the blast or locked away in some vault or other underground shelter? What is left up there for me? No, there are the people who took my baby. They survived. What do they want with him?

I shudder as a sob threatens to slip from my mouth, silencing it with the bite of my blade. A small gash is left in the wake of the razor, that immediately starts to spill blood. I swipe it against my wrist once more and then move down, adding a few cuts, continuing until my entire left arm is filled with gashes and cuts. The blood drips into the puddle on the ground, swirling and mixing with the water. I feel better, my arm throbbing and hurting because of me, my chest no longer aching because of what I can't control. I slowly roll down the sleeve of my vault suit, and it immediately soaks up the blood, becoming moist and turning from the bright blue to a deep crimson. I drop the blade into the pocket of my suit and stand up.

"I'm so so sorry Nate," I whisper as I kiss his cold, lifeless forehead and slide his wedding ring from his finger. As I explore the vault, I come across a few rooms. I search through the dressers and find an old vault suit. It is covered in a layer of dust, despite being in the closed drawer of the dresser. I shake it off and walk over to the sink, shedding the old vault suit, getting it damp and using it to clean off my arm. The cuts are still bleeding slightly, so I rip off a piece of my vault suit and wrap my arm in it before pulling on the new one. It's a bit large but at least it isn't warm with my own blood.

I continue to walk through the vault, horrified to find clean skeletons, any flesh and muscle completely gone. How long does that kind of decomposition take? It's enough to make me gag. I try to shake it off and walk to the curved desk, picking up and 10mm pistol. Nate and I kept one in the nightstand of our bedroom. Nate insisted on it, especially with tensions thickening around the world. We just assumed it would end in war, causing another great depression like the one I'd learned about as a child in school. History always fascinated me. It's hard to imagine a time so screwed up that millions were homeless, including veterans who had served this great country. Sixty years can really clean a place up. So Nate and I hadn't worried. Nate was declared disabled after losing a leg. The government had covered the medical expenses of a prosthetic leg as well as regular medical check ups. We had no reason to worry. With Nate's dedication to this country, a war couldn't effect us. At least, not a war like this.

I shake off my inner ramblings and check the clip of the 10mm. There are three bullets in the clip. I fill it up with the box of rounds next to it, 16 rounds left over after filling the clip. Will I need this up there? 

When I finally get out of the vault, my eyes burn from the light. Even though the gradual ascent gave my eyes plenty of time to adjust to the growing light, it was still overwhelming and took me a few minutes to get used to. My newly acquired Pip-Boy gives me an alert that it's picked up a radio signal. It takes me a few seconds to figure out the controls but the name of the radio immediately overwhelms me with hope. Diamond City Radio. City, as in an actual place where actual living people live. I start to feel my eyes well up with tears of joy, blinking them back as I tune into the radio station. An awkward voice comes on. The boy hosting the radio station doesn't sound that old, maybe four or five years younger than me. I listen in for a bit.

"Coming to you from uh, the jewel green, uh, I mean the uh, the green, agh, the great green jewel, of the Commonwealth. It's Diamond City Radio. Here's uh, Sixty Minute Man, and uh, let's be honest here, it's well, uh, he's not talking about how long his naps are. So uh, here it is."

My Pip-Boy starts playing a familiar tune. I let out a small sigh as I look around. Things look awful, trees bare, brown scrub in place of luscious, green, bushes. But somewhere there's a city, and it's being described as the "great, green jewel" of the Commonwealth. I can only assume that to mean the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. 

I pause for a minute. That doesn't make sense. A station like this wouldn't have come together so soon after the bombs hitting. People would still be in too much fear. People would still be too scared to come out of hiding. Even a week, a month, maybe two. A radio station like this wouldn't be up. I mean, that would explain the nervous news jockey but still, it doesn't add up. How much time has really passed? How long ago was my baby taken from me? My mind starts to fall into chaos and I simply press my thumb into one of the cuts below where the Pip-Boy rests, the pressure causing blood to seep up, leaving a circle of blood on the sleeve of my suit. 

I search through the set up around the vault, finding a second pistol and some more rounds for it, as well as two more stimpaks. Under one of the desks inside a small trailer I find a tin labeled 'caps stash' and find it filled with about fifteen bottle caps. Why was someone collecting these? But they were hidden and labeled in a way that looks important. Maybe they do have some value. I place the tin into a small bag I found in one of the trailers, now hanging at my waist. As I continue to look around, I see Sanctuary Hills, and I can see several of the houses still standing. Maybe there's something left there, some answers or hell, maybe some food. All this scrounging has suddenly stirred up my appetite.

 

When I start to approach my house, I have to take a moment while my brain registers Codsworth, standing, well hovering, right in front of me. He survived.

"As I live and breath. Miss Annalise, is that really you?" Codsworth hovers towards me and I almost drop my 10mm in disbelief. If only I could give him a hug right now.

"Codsworth? You're still here? So other people could still be alive, too!" I reply, feeling a bit more hopeful about my situation.

"Well of course I'm still here!" Codsworth exclaims. "Surely you don't think a bit of radiation could deter the pride of General Atomics International? But you've seen the worse for wear. Best not let the hubby see you in this state. Where is sir, by the way?" 

I pause for a moment, bile in my stomach threatening to rise up my throat.

"He.. he's dead."

"Mum... these things you're saying. These.. terrible things... I... believe you need a distraction. Yes! A distraction to calm this dire mood." I can't help but smile at Codsworth's immediate effort to try and make me feel better. "It's been ages since we had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad... with you?"

I try not to break down on the spot. Thinking about it is one thing, but actually having to talk about it. Speak about it and be forced to hear the words I'm saying is an entirely different matter. I feel my chest start to ache with remorse once again.

"Shaun's been kidnapped," I finally manage to say, tears filling my eyes. "But I'm going to find him. I'm going to get my baby back."

Codsworth seems to think I'm joking, or terribly confused.

"Hmm, it's worse than I thought. You're suffering from... hunger-induced paranoia. Not eating properly for 200 years will do that, I'm afraid."

I almost choke. Did Codsworth just say 200 years? How long ago in those 200 years was Shaun kidnapped? How old is he now? Is Shaun even still alive?

"200 years? What... Are you sure?" I question, my mind spinning and my thoughts racing. How could 200 years have passed. Just an hour ago I was getting ready in the bathroom with Nate. I was frozen, though. Could 200 years really have passed while I was locked away in a fridge?

"A bit over 210 actually, mum. Give or take for the earth's rotation and a few dings to the ol' chronometer. That mean your two centuries late for dinner." Codsworth chuckles at his own joke, and even through my distress and confusion, I can't help but crack a smile. "Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished."

It seems as though Codsworth is being a bit too cheery. I know his job as a robotic butler has him programmed to be delightful and helpful, but it feels almost forced.

"Codsworth, you're acting a little bit... strange. What's wrong?" I ask, hoping he has a little more information to aid in this ordeal.

"I...I... Oh mum! It's been just horrible! Two centuries with no one to talk to, no one to serve. I spent the first ten years trying to keep the floors waxed but nothing gets out nuclear fallout vinyl. Nothing! And don't get me started about the futility of a collapsed house. And the car. The car! How do you polish rust?"

"Calm down, Codsworth. I need you to focus," I respond. I need something, anything from Codsworth that will help.

"I'm afraid I don't know anything, mum. The bombs fell, and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for sure you and your family were... Dead."

The last word echoes in my ears, pounding into my thoughts. Dead. That's what Nate is. He's dead, gone. My husband, my love, gone.

"I did find this holotape. I believe sir was going to present it to you. As a surprise. But then, well... Everything happened."

I accept the holotape and immediately push it into the slot of my Pip-Boy. Diamond City Radio stops playing, It's All Over but the Crying cutting off and replaced by Nate's gentle voice, along with the soft cooing of Shaun. I let it play and excuse myself from Codsworth, walking into the house and curling up onto the couch. I have the holotape continue to play as I softy cry into my arm, my tears slowly soaking the cushions.


	2. Blinding Mornings

When I wake up, it's to the idle sounds Codsworth makes. I almost think this has all been a bad dream. But when I open my eyes, it's to a broken roof, deteriorated walls, and blasted-out windows. I shiver a little. This vault suit may offer some protection, but not from the cold. Nate always teased me for my constant coldness. Thinking of Nate brings tears to my eyes. I can't think about that. I need to think of Shaun. He needs to be my focus. I need to keep it together for Shaun. If he's even still out there.

I sit up on the couch, my neck slightly stiff. I use my hand to push my jaw in both directions, letting out a satisfying series of pops. That was something that always bothered Nate. He said the sound was unsettling. I just did it more frequently, and always around him. He would just joke that one day I'd snap my neck and then I'd be absolutely screwed. 

I laugh at the memories, but the joy is turned into pain. I can never laugh with him about that, jokingly tease him by popping my neck. I want to cry, and part of me starts to, but the overwhelming ache in my chest is too much. I get up and run into the bathroom, past Codsworth, who is busying himself in the kitchen. My dilapidated home doesn't allow for much privacy, which is slightly irritating. I continue down the hall, into my bedroom. The house overall looks looted and scavenged, but maybe I can find something better to wear. I search all the drawers of my dresser, finding a pair of jeans and an old, worn out undershirt. Nate had always bugged me about throwing it out, but I liked having it. It was perfect for when I wanted to paint or do some little home improvement or DIY. Nate had always called me crazy.

In the closet, I find one of Nate's old flannel button ups. It's been fleece insulated, and although it's always been big on me, it was my favorite shirt to steal from him, the deep green complimenting my eyes. I drape the clothes over my arm and walk back into the bathroom, setting them down on the broken toilet and walking up to the sink. It feels like just yesterday, Nate and I were standing here together. I start to see his face, the gorgeous face that I can never see smile or laugh again. 

As I pull off my vault suit, I realize the improvised bandages have gotten stuck inside the cuts. As I pull it out, it rips the scabs off with it, and I can't help but grunt in pain. The cuts start to bleed again, and I try to rip the bandages out of the cut, but that only increases the pain and makes the bleeding worse. 

I test one of the handles to the sink. The faucet sputters for a moment, air pushing through the pipe, but after a few seconds, water spurts out and then a steady flow falls into the sink. I run my arm under the water, making the water in the sink red as it washes over my arm. The cold water stings, but I continue to hold my arm under it, letting it slowly work the material out of the cuts until I can gently ease it out. I then slowly massage my arm to get the rest of the dried blood off.

When I stopped cutting, eight years ago, that was the thing I missed the least. The clean up. It always hurt and took a good amount of time.

When my arm is thoroughly rinsed off, I stop the water and shake my arm to dry it as much as I can before shedding the vault suit and pulling on my jeans and undershirt. As I button up the flannel, I smell the collar of the shirt. His scent has been washed away by radiation and dust. When I leave the bathroom Codsworth approaches me from the kitchen.

"Ah, mum! Good to see you've changed out of that dreadful suit and into your own clothing. You're starting to look more like your old self. Are you hungry? The food remnants aren't great, but I could heat up some pork and beans, or maybe open you a pack of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. It certainly isn't the most nutritious meal, but you must eat something."

"I guess some Fancy Lads. Do we have any Nuka-Colas still floating around here?" I ask, realizing that my throat is incredibly dry. 

"I believe so. If you're thirsty, mum, one of the neighboring houses has a water pump. It might be worth it to collect some." Codsworth looks through the cabinets and pulls out a dented box of Fancy Lads. The typically white box with red print has faded tremendously. 

"They say these snacks can survive nuclear war, along with cockroaches. One's already thriving in the tunnels of the vault. Maybe these will at least be edible," I say as Codsworth hands me the box. I open the top, and see four packaged Fancy Lads. The plastic is all puffed out, so the seal has remained in tact. 

I sit down on the couch, curling my feet underneath me, and open up one of the snack cakes. The familiar sweet smell is a small comfort. I eye the treat dubiously, not sure if I should take a bite. My stomach growls in response, and I hesitantly take a bite. It's chewy rather than soft and fluffy, and the taste is stale, but it's sweet and tastes alright. I quickly devour the rest of it and open two more, eating them happily.

"Oh mum. You never were one for basic eating etiquette. I'm glad to see you smiling again."

Codsworth hovers over to the living room and looks out the window, observing the neighborhood. When I finish the last Fancy Lad, my thirst has grown. 

"Which house did you say has the water pump?" I ask.

"That one just across the road, with the red workbench. A few people have come through. They were pleasant enough, but after only a month, they ran off east. It's a shame too, they had started a small farm behind the house, with a few tato plants and some corn. I think there might have been some razor grain growing back there two. I haven't checked."

"Would you mind coming with me? I know it's barely thirty feet, but the pistol I found feels weird in my hands, and I'd feel safer with you behind me." 

"Mum, it would be an honor!" Codsworth exclaims, happy to have specific duties again, even just keeping me safe. I can't help but chuckle.

After a week of slowly getting acquainted with the wasteland, a few encounters with some mutated bugs and a radstag that I accidentally snuck up on, I decide to try to venture to Red Rocket on my own. If I'm ever going to find Shaun, I need to be able to do this on my own. One of the things Codsworth and I have been doing is cleaning up Sanctuary Hills, moving fallen trees behind the house to cut them up into more manageable pieces to be used for crafting, and pulling apart things like fallen lamp posts, and collecting the individual parts inside.

I'd even managed to keep a light bulb lit for three hours, using an old battery, some duct tape, and a bit of copper wire.

With my pistol recently cleaned and loaded, I keep it at the ready, slowly making my way across the bridge. As I walk, I notice a dog. He looks to be pretty shaggy. He seems to be pacing around the gas station, as if he's nervous for something. When I get closer, he notices me and perks his ears up. The dog lets out a playful bark and I can't help but smile. I whistle to him, and he runs to me immediately, jumping up and trying to lick my face. I tuck my pistol into the band on my jeans, simultaneously trying not to fall over. 

With the safety on and the pistol safely secured into place, I sit down on the ground and let the dog fall into my lap, rolling around on its back. I rub his tummy and scratch behind his ears. He continues to wriggle around as I pet him, his tongue hanging out panting. He almost looks like a worm squirming around. As he slowly starts to calm down, I hear an odd, hissing noise. The dog immediately raises his ears and stands up from my lap, his tail sticking up straight. 

I continue to look around as I retrieve my 10mm and switch the safety off. I hear another screech and through some scrub, I see an ugly, oversized, pink rat running at me. I stand there shocked with my weapon raised. The dog doesn't seem to hesitate, running towards the naked rat, biting at his leg and pulling him down the the ground. The mole rat hisses out with pain and I take the moment to take a deep breath and align my sights. When I pull the trigger, I'm a little shocked to see that I hit my target.

Blood sprays from the bullet wound, and the mole rat appears to be dead. Just as I start to calm down, three more run out from the brown scrub, two running at me, one distracted by the dog. I have little time to align my sights, pulling the trigger as soon as they're lined. My shot misses, and the rats continue to run at me. I slowly back up, only a few more feet left until they reach me. I align the sights and keep them lined until after I've pulled the trigger.

The mole rat falls over, blood gushing from the wound and soaking into the dirt. I try not to gag and repeat the same thing on the second mole rat. My shot grazes along his fat little body, and the mole rat immediately starts to burrow into the ground at an incredible speed. I'm not sure where he goes, but I ignore it and look at the rat that the dog is taking on. He seems to be able to hold his own, getting a grip on the mole rat's throat and tearing into it.

That's when the second mole rat pops up again. The dog immediately sprints to it, growling as he lunges for it, his mouth latching on the side of the mole rat's face. Jesus, this is not the kind of dog I'd want to piss off. As the dog continues to attack the mole rat, I aim for the body of the rat, quickly pulling the trigger twice. They both miss. 

The dog starts to lose his grip on the mole rat. His teeth finally slip, leaving some disgusting open gashes that pour out blood. My hands start to shake and the the mole rat starts to try and chase the dog. I don't know what to do, not trusting my marksmanship to not accidentally leave the dog with a bullet wound. I keep trying to line up the sights but they're both moving too fast, running in circles. The mole rat catches up and swipes for the dog, it's long and sharp claws leaving four cuts in the side of the dog. I yell out as the dog stops running, trying to lick his wounds clean. 

I curse under my breath and draw my pistol quickly, pulling the trigger the second I see the mole rat in the sights. The shot hits him in his neck and he collapses. I immediately rush over to the dog, who is whining as he continues to lick at the scratches. I search through my bag and pull out one of my stimpaks, pulling the needle cap off, and slowly pushing it into the center of the cuts. The dog yelps at first and I feel a pang of guilt, but as the chem kicks in, the dog seems to calm down.

"I have a proposal for you," I say, scratching him behind the ears, "we make a hell of a team. Why don't we stick together, buddy?"

Of course this dog has no idea what I'm saying, but as I gently scratch behind his ears as the stimpak goes to work on his wounds, I feel confident that I've made one badass, fur covered companion.


	3. Blown Away

When I finish wiring the components of the second machine gun turret, Preston approaches me, patting my shoulder. I jerk slightly, my guard still high, despite Sanctuary having some real defenses now.

"Sorry, Anna. Didn't mean to scare you. How's that turret coming along?" Preston asks as he helps me hold a piece of steel plating in place.

"I think I'm almost done," I reply, taking a moment to wipe the condensing sweat off my forehead and onto the sleeve of my shirt. Well, Nate's shirt. I would need to wash it soon, the smell of sweat starting to become noticeable, and dirt stains building up. The wasteland was such a dirty place.

"This damn wiring is confusing. I'm surprised I got that first one up and running," I admit. Finally, the last screw is in place, and I flip a small switch on the underside. It starts to power up, clunking and sputtering as it pans back and forth.

"You did it. You know, last week, back in Concord, I had started to think that would be the end. But look at what you've done. We've got beds, not just thin sleeping bags, a small farm growing, fresh and clean water, and now, protection. You're the best thing that's happened to what's left of the minutemen."

"I'm flattered, Preston. I was just offering a hand to you guys." I wipe my hands off onto my jeans and stand up from my crouched position, my left knee popping in the process.

"Well, it you're still up to offering a hand to folks who need it, I have a different task for you. Part of being a minuteman meant that if someone needed help, we show up in a moment's notice. There's a settlement nearby, Abernathy Farm. Apparently, there's some trouble with raiders. If it's not too much to ask, maybe you could head over there and talk to them."

"Of course. I need to keep myself busy. I need distractions," I say aloud, not entirely meaning to.

"What do you mean?" Preston inquires.

"My, my husband was killed, and my baby kidnapped. I-I don't even know how long it's been. When the war started and the bombs fell, we were rushed into the vaults so quickly that none of us considered what was waiting in those vaults. Vault 111 was meant to study the effects of cryogenic stasis on unaware test subjects. I don't know if my baby was taken a month after the bombs fell, or ten years or two hundred. I have no idea if he's even still alive. And I don't even know where to start to go and find him."

"Damn, that, that's intense. So you were alive before the war? You're looking pretty good for being two centuries old," Preston jokes.

"Haha. Yeah, I try my best. The secret is mole rat's blood. I smear it over my face every morning and night," I joke back, grinning.

"I hope for the sake of everyone here that that's not true. I get the feeling that the smell would add up quickly."

We both laugh and it feels good for a second. For a moment I'm laughing and enjoying myself. While Nate sits frozen, trapped inside a vault. I don't deserve to be up here.

"Well, I don't have much else to do, so I'll head over to Abernathy Farm now. Maybe if confidence in the Minutemen is rebuilt, people will start to join your cause. I think it would be nice to see a world where everyone is willing to help out whoever. Even before the bombs, not everyone was on board with open hospitality like that. Hey, Dogmeat!" I whistle at him, waking him up from his snooze underneath the shade of an old tree, leaning against the rubble of an old house.

His ears perk up, and he quickly stands up and runs over to me.

"Ready to head out, boy?" I ask, ignoring once again that he has no idea what I'm saying. Dogmeat lets out a reassuring bark and I can't help but laugh.

 

When Sanctuary starts to leave our sights, my mind starts to wander again. Nate went and ran to grab Shaun when we heard the siren go off. What if I had gotten a hold of myself and ran to get Shaun instead, not standing paralyzed in fear and shock.

When Shaun started crying as we walked deeper into the vault, I could have taken him from Nate and gently rocked him to settle down.

When we were dressing into the vault suits, I easily could have been the one to end up holding Shaun. So why was I stuck facing this ordeal? Nate was always stronger than me. He deserves this fighting chance to help the people of the Commonwealth. He deserves this opportunity to help people. I should be the one dead and frozen in a vault.

My pity party is cut short by a group of Radstags. I'd seen them back when I was first wandering around Codsworth. They didn't really attack you unless they felt threatened or thought you had gotten to close.

I take a step back, trying not to instigate a fight with these horrible mutations, but Dogmeat runs to the first one, jumping at its throat and pulling a chunk of skin from its neck. The sight makes me sick. I only have a few seconds to unholster my pistol. I quickly aim for the second one, pulling the trigger and putting two bullets into its head. The third one catches me off guard, blending into the brown and dead bushes. It charges towards me, the snap of a branch the only thing alerting me as the three hundred pound, mutated deer rams its antlers into my side. I fall down onto my back, the wind knocked out of me.

I try to suck in air, but I just can't get my lungs to work. The radstag approaches me and kicks me with its hoove in the stomach, turning me over with a hard jab of its antlers. On my stomach I can finally breath again, and I quickly reach for my combat knife, turning back onto my back, slashing the radstag as it goes to shove me with its antlers once more, just in time for the cut artery to spray blood all over my face. The radstag then collapses onto me. It takes a few good shoves but I finally get him off of me in time to see Dogmeat finishing off the first radstag, biting down into its neck deep and hard. I think I hear the sound of bones snapping.

As the adrenaline rush fades, the pain in my stomach sets in hard. My heavy breathing hurts, each inhale like I'm taking in fire and not air. I lay on my back for a while, my hand gently laying on my stomach. Dogmeat wanders over to me and licks my face a few times. I can't help but laugh, despite the waves of pain it sends to my abdomen. I gently feel around my ribs, and although everything is tender as hell, nothing seems to be broken.

I carefully sit up and look through my bag for some med-x. When I finally find one of the shots I uncap it and push the needle into my side, slowly pushing the syringe and releasing the pain reliever into my system. When the shot is empty, I place the cap back on and place it back into my bag. Then I get an old dishrag and a can of purified water to rinse to blood off my face and neck, drinking the remaining water and putting the empty can and bloodied rag back into my pouch. If there was one thing I learned living in this new world for a few weeks, it's that nothing is useless, nothing is truly junk. Everything can be repurposed, much to the dismay of Codsworth. Sorting through all the ruins and junk had often left him commenting on my "hoarding".

The pain starts to subside and I slowly push myself up onto my feet, taking a moment to catch my breath before continuing to Abernathy Farm. When I get there, they immediately draw their guns on me.

"Whoa, I'm with the Minutemen, I'm here to help not add to the problem. Why don't you tell me what the problem is?" I say calmly.

"Sorry, we're a little shaken up. Raiders have been threatening us. Forcing us to pay them and give them our food, or they'll kill us. And the last time they came through they took our daughter's locket. It's all Connie has left to remember Mary by. Mary tried to stand up to the raiders and they, they just killed her."

"I'll get it back, and I'll take care of those raiders for you. I promise," I reply. "Do you know where they are?"

"I'm pretty sure they're holed up at USAF Satellite Station Olivia. I can mark it on the map of your Pip-Boy. It's not too far from here. If you could just bring back the locket, it would mean a lot to us."

 

The walk to the satellite station is relatively uneventful. A few bloatflies and a stray raider with a few caps and some more 10mm rounds. Going up the hill to approach the raiders guarding the entrance, I can hear them talking. Night is starting to fall on the wasteland, the air cooling and the stars popping up in the dimming sky. I crouch behind the cover of an old fallen tree and scan the area. There are two raiders in the room on top of the satellite, I can here them talking to each other but only one is visible. The other raider is patrolling the surrounding area, holding a pipe pistol at her side.

I almost laugh. In an underground bunker at Sanctuary I had found a pipe pistol and they are one of the most pathetic weapons I've come across. Dogmeat starts to growl at the raider patrolling and I quickly grab him by the scruff, making sure to be gentle. I pull him behind the cover of the tree.

"It's okay, Dogmeat," I whisper to him, petting him around the neck. "You need to be nice, you can trick that raider." I stare at him in the eye and pat him gently on the back before gesturing for him to leave cover and approach the raider on patrol. Once he starts walking over I quickly draw my pistol, keeping my sights aimed through some stray branches of the tree. Dogmeat turns back to me and whines, but I just nod at him, gesturing my pistol once again to where I want him to go before finding the raider with my sights once again.

Dogmeat whines some more, a bit louder this time, drawing the attention of the raider.

"What the fuck?" The raider says.

"What is it?" One of the raiders from the tower calls out.

"I'm not sure," she replies as she walks to the sound. As she gets closer to Dogmeat he lets out a happy bark. "Holy shit, it's a dog. He looks friendly."

"Well, go get him, dumbass. We need another guard dog." He yells down to her.

"Sure thing," she calls backs before muttering "asshole" under her breath.

As she walks towards Dogmeat, he looks over to me. I gesture for him to come back now that the raider is following him, air patting my leg, hoping it's too dark to see me behind the tree. Dogmeat slowly walks towards me.

"Where the hell are you going, buddy? I got a nice can of dog food, all you gotta do is kill on sight," she calls to Dogmeat, following him.

My heart starts to pound. I haven't killed another human being, yet. I would have to now. I slowly back up to move out of her line of sight. Dogmeat walks past me and barks happily once again. I hear the footsteps of the raider approaching the other side of the tree. I flip my 10mm's safety on and quickly holster it, grabbing my combat knife just in time. The raider walks past the tree and I quickly swing my arm around her neck and pull tightly.

"Huh?" She starts to struggle and I waste no time positioning my knife below my arm and jabbing the blade into her throat. She coughs and lets out her last breath as I gently lay her down. I just... killed a person. Dogmeat had killed the stray raider we came across, but this person I had actually killed. I feel my eyes get hot as tears start to brim. I have to bite my lip to hold back a sob.

I quickly wipe my eyes. The other raiders are gonna wonder what's taking her so long. In her pockets I find a few rounds of .38 ammo and 16 caps. I place them into my bag and then take out my pistol, peaking behind the tree and looking up to the room. The two raiders have moved into my line of sight. I align my sights and hold my breath. I target the raider facing my direction. If I'm fast enough I can get both of them without them even realizing what just happened.

I carefully squeeze the trigger, careful not to let my aim sway. The raider takes a few steps forward and falls and the other turns around just in time for me to put a bullet into his head. I listen carefully for any other sounds. When I start to think I'm in the clear I hear Dogmeat growling behind me. I quickly whip my head around to see a fourth raider I hadn't noticed, wielding an aluminum bat. I gasp as he starts to swing at me but Dogmeat quickly latches onto his leg and pulls the raider down. I shoot the raider twice in the chest.

"You just saved my life," I say to Dogmeat, laughing a bit. He just barks at me and tilts his head to the side. I look through my bag and find a can of cram, using my knife to pry the lid off. I set the can down on the ground and Dogmeat eats it happily. I pet him, scratching behind his ears and stroking the fur of his neck. In just a few seconds he devours the cram the looks up at me, his tongue hanging out as he pants.

"Ready to kick some more raider ass?" I ask. He licks my face and then runs ahead. "I'll take that as a yes," I chuckle, standing up straight.

Inside the satellite station, down some stairs and through a hall, is a laser trip wire. I roll my eyes. The whole point of a trip wire is to be unnoticed, not bright red. I get out my screwdriver and kneel beside the trip wire, careful not to lean into the red beam of light. It takes a few minutes to get the rusty screw out from the box, but finally they come undone. That's two more screws to help build turrets. There are two panels of steel plating, one on top and one on bottom. I take the top one off, exposing the wiring and circuitry behind it. I really have no idea how to take it apart further, so I stab the end of the screw driver into the circuitry until a piece breaks off and the lasers shut off.

With the trip wire disarmed, I quickly dismantle the rest of the it and hold on to the pieces of scrap. The room leading from the stairs is wrecked and dirty, rubble and garbage decorating the floor as well as old filing cabinets missing their drawers and cardboard boxes with old pre war files. There's a working terminal on an old, dented and beat up desk. I press the keyboard a few times to get it to start up. I've only ever heard the gist of hacking terminals, but I've never done it before. The computer gives a list of potential passwords. I go through and try a few, finally unlocking it with the word "bitch".

I laugh to myself. Clever password, raiders. Clever password. When the terminal unlocks, I select the option to open the intel door. As I lean up from the desk, I hear the voices of a few raiders. I catch a little of what they're saying.

"... lay off the jet."

They both start laughing. I just roll my eyes and get my pistol ready. I crouch down and carefully sneak over to the intel room keeping an eye out for any raiders nearby. On the desk in the center of the intel room is a mini nuke. My jaw almost drops. An actual mini nuke. I walk to it slowly and hesitantly reach out for it. Nate had told me about these. They had the power to absolutely destroy enemies on the field. He hated using them, and carrying the mini nukes scared the hell out of him. One stray bullet had the power to take out the entire team. I look over the nuke carefully, before deciding to set it back down. I don't want to carry that around.

There are more file cabinets against the wall, nothing special in the drawers. I do find a green steamer trunk. Inside are a few full boxes of ammo which I gratefully stuff into my bag, as well as four fragmentation grenades and a pulse mine.

Going through the old room stirs up some dust and suddenly I feel a familiar tickle building up in my nose. I don't have time to react or cover my mouth before letting out a loud sneeze.

"Who the fuck was that?" I hear one of the raiders call out. They start to argue over who just sneezed until they realize that it wasn't any of their guys. I hear footsteps against metal and quickly draw my 10mm, aiming at the doorway. The steps get louder and then a raider bursts in. I immediately pull down on the trigger, shooting him three times in the stomach before he falls over.

"Oh hell no!" I hear a female voice yell out. Now they all know that I'm here. I run to the doorway and peek out, seeing another one running for me, armed with a pool cue. Before he can get within swinging distance, I put a round near his collar bone and he falls down onto his face. Through the window, or I guess holes where windows where windows once rested, I see a large room with a railway around it, a large generator in the center. I run to one of the windows and poke my head over looking for a target. One of them is running to the stairs, wielding a shotgun. I sprint over to the door and slam it shut. There isn't a lock on this side and I look around quickly before running to the closest file cabinet. It's heavy and screeches against the concrete floor as I shove it too the door. I get it in place just as the raider makes it to the door.

"Let me in, you little bitch. Time to die!" He growls. I hear the slam of his body shoving into the door. It's clear he's much stronger than me, and the file cabinet inches forward. I grab the pulse mine from my bag and set it down carefully in front of the door before sprinting into the intel room. There are now two distinct bodies slamming against the door and after a few seconds, the mine chirps before exploding, releasing a shock of electricity. I look around the doorway to see the two raiders dead next to each other. I hear a few more voices yelling, one of them referred to as Ack-Ack.

"Dammit let me get my mini gun!" The person I assume to be Ack-Ack shouts. I hear loud metallic clunks that hit the ground the same pace footsteps of someone running would be. Power armor? Nate talked about power armor a lot too. He said that despite being a bunch of steel, it felt light and moved with your body and it was harder to get shot or killed while wearing it. A mini gun and a suit of power armor. How in the hell would I be able to handle that? I order Dogmeat to retreat and go to the stairs. He could handle enemies pretty well but the thought of him in the same room with a bunch of maniacs with guns made me sick to my stomach.

I grab one of the grenades and pull the pin, chucking it through the window and down into the room below. It explodes after a few moments.

"Ack-Ack hurry up, this chick just killed two more! God dammit I'm going to take care of this right now!" I hear a raider growl and then the sounds of footsteps hitting the railway. I quickly aim my pistol and start pulling the trigger as soon as he comes into view. It takes a few shots to kill him, some of them hitting pieces of metal armor instead of flesh.

I take another grenade and peak behind cover, seeing an older man in damaged power armor come running from across the room, holding a massive mini gun, followed by another raider. I pull the pin of the grenade and throw it in their direction.

"Shit, shit, shit!" One of them yells as they turn around and try to run away. They only manage a few steps before the frag goes off and blows them into pieces.

I let out a sigh of relief, standing up and looking below. There are chunks of dead bodies everywhere. My stomach flips and I almost heave and throw up. I walk over to the raiders by the door, picking up a nice, double barrel shotgun. I run the sleeve of my shirt over the barrel and stock, wiping away blood and grime. This has a lot more power than a 10mm, I think to myself. As I walk downstairs into the room, the smell of blood is overwhelming. All of this death, by my own hands. The thought is horrifying.

"It was self defense, Annalise. We never went into a battle with the intention to slaughter innocents. They are our enemies and it was the only way to survive out there."

I hear Nate's voice echoing through my mind. Self defense. I don't want to live in a world where murder meant survival. I locate Mary's locket in an old toolbox by a set of double doors. I don't bother trying to pick the lock, instead I just turn around and run out of there as fast as I can. Once I'm outside, I collapse against the wall and slowly slide down, the touch concrete catching on the shirt and lifting it up, exposing my back. The wall scratches it up but I don't even feel it.

How am I capable of murder? Those people, they had families once. But, they killed Mary, Blake and Connie's daughter. Does that make it right? Does that make any of this okay?

"This is so _fucked_!" I scream out at no one in particular. I quickly reach into my bag and pull out an old glasses case, my blade resting inside. I roll up the sleeve of my left arm. My left arm is still covered in bright red scabs. I roll the sleeve of my right arm up. It's all new skin, untouched by a blade except for a few faint, white lines around my wrist. I don't even hesitate before dragging the blade across my skin, digging it deep into my flesh and tearing it apart. I don't want to be Anna right now. I don't want to be a killer. I don't want to find my son. 

I just want to be dead.


	4. Alliances

Why did I ever agree to being the General of the Minutemen? Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

I continue to scold myself as I load my shotgun and continue towards Cambridge. Some people from a nearby settlement had seen some ghouls and it had spooked them pretty badly. When I asked what a ghoul was the man I was talking to almost laughed in my face. He told me about people who had their minds and faces rotted away by radiation. I then asked if they were like zombies after hearing some more description of them.

"What in the hell are zombies?" he had asked me.

"You know, zombies, like from the late night..." I had let my voice fade when I realized that no, no one here knew about the late night horror flicks that played. "Never mind. I'll take care of them for you, just tell me where you saw them."

The more I had thought about it walking over to Cambridge, the more I realized what a stupid idea it was. Dogmeat barks at my side, his ears perking up. He sniffs around and starts running in the direction of the Cambridge Police Station. As I chase him closer, I hear the sounds of beams being fired, a very electric, deep, and fuzzy sound. The entrance is mostly blocked off but there are two openings that lead to a fight between a man in a suit of power armor directing two others. I quickly aim for one of the ghouls and fire. 

No one in the improvised courtyard seems to notice me until my shotgun goes off. Three heads turn to my direction and the one that seems to be in charge yells out as the sounds of ghouls running this way grows louder.

"Civilian in the perimeter. Check your fire!"

I turn my back to them, hoping I don't end face down with a bullet, or laser, in my back. I'd just have to trust them. Dogmeat immediately gets to work, holding a ghoul down, making it easier for me to get a head shot. 

We make quick work of them and eventually there are no more growls or hisses, instead a large pile of rotting corpses laying around the police station.

"We appreciate the assistance, civilian. But what's your business here?" The one in charge wastes no time interrogating me. I start to feel uneasy.

"Before I answer, would you mind telling me who you are?" I ask, hoping to keep this conversation calm. I had a long list of things that I needed to do as General, and that didn't include answering to whoever this was.

"In due time. If you want to remain in our compound, I suggest you answer my question first," he replies. I let out a sigh.

"I'm General Annalise of the Commonwealth Minutemen. I was on my way to the subway station to clear out some ghouls when I heard the gunfire. It looked like you guys needed some help."

"General of the Minutemen? I didn't know they were still around. Are you from a nearby settlement?" He continues to question.

"About a two hour hike north is a settlement called Sanctuary Hills. What's with all of these questions, anyway? I just helped you kill all those ferals," I say, beginning to get annoyed.

"Fair point. If I appear suspicious, it's because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we've been under constant fire. If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun." 

"I want to help but I don't like all the secrecy. Who are you? Really?" I ask, switching the safety on on my shotgun. I use a strap I glued and taped on to rest it against my back. The shotgun was only a few pounds but holding it made my arms sore. The man appears to relax a bit.

"I'm Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel. Over there is Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys. We're on recon duty, but I'm down a man and our supplies are running low. I've been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal's too weak to reach them," Danse explains.

"Sir, if I may?" The one called Haylen asks.

"Proceed Haylen," Danse replies.

"I've modified the radio tower on the roof of the police station, but I'm afraid it just isn't enough. What we need is something that will boost the signal."

"Our target is ArcJet Systems, and it contains the technology we need. The deep range transmitter. We infiltrate the facility, secure the transmitter and bring it back here. So what do you say? You willing to lend the Brotherhood of Steel a hand?" Danse asks me.

"Sure, the Minutemen are always willing to help out," I say, repeating what Preston Garvey is always saying. I would rather be in bed, sawing away at my arms, but helping the Commonwealth was better than sulking and pitying myself.

 

Getting the transmitter from ArcJet wasn't the easiest task, my first encounter with synths being a little unsettling, but getting it and getting back to the police station was rewarding enough, and Danse had rewarded me with a laser rifle, and an offer to join the Brotherhood of Steel. I had accepted. They wanted to help save the wasteland from synths. From what I had heard, they were part of the Institute, a group that kidnapped wastelanders to make synthetic copies. They were hidden away somewhere, and everyone feared them. The kidnapping had immediately made me think of Shaun. Who else would have a motive to kidnap an infant? Shaun was pure, unaffected by radiation and was still growing. Perfect for the Institute. It made a lot of sense to me. 

The Brotherhood wanted to destroy the Institute and if they were the ones who kidnapped Shaun, I had no problem joining. 

Back at the police station, Danse addresses Rhys and Haylen.

"It's time to welcome our newest recruit, Anna. She shows a lot of promise and with the proper guidance, she has the potential of becoming one of the best." 

I can't help but blush a little.

"Thanks, I won't let you down," I reply, looking down at the ground.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," Haylen reassures. "Getting that transmitter was enough." Rhys doesn't seem to be so accepting.

"So you decided to stay, huh. I expected you to take your payment and run." 

"I got tired of wandering alone," I admit. It's too hot in here, especially in this flannel.

"Too bad, I was getting used to the thought of you leaving," Rhys replies. What is his problem?

"Rhys, that's enough!" Danse scolds. "Like it or not, you're going to have to learn to work together. And you." Danse turns to face me, "you need to learn what it means to be a part of the Brotherhood. We're not soldiers of fortune. We're an army and we've dedicated our lives to uphold a strict code of ethics. If you intend to stay within our ranks, you need to obey our tenets without question," Danse says sternly.

"But I didn't..." I start to say before biting my tongue. "Sorry," I quickly say after. "My, my husband, he was in the military for a while. He told me a lot about it when he'd come home." I say, hoping to win some sort of gain with Danse.

"Perfect. Then there's no need to give you a long lecture, so I'll just get to the point. I only ask for two things from anyone under my command. Honesty and respect. You fall in line, you stay in line. I give you an order, and you follow it. It's as simple as that. Now, before I release you to Haylen and Rhys for your next assignments, there's one last order of business. From this moment forward, I'm granting you the rank of initiate. This is only a training rank. I'm not permitted to grant any ranks higher than that."

"Thank you," I reply quietly.

"Thanks aren't necessary. Just continue excelling at your duties soldier."

"Ad Victorium, Anna." Hayley says, smiling at me.

"She doesn't even know what that means, Haylen." Rhys says harshly.

"Ad Victorium," I repeat. "It's latin for 'to victory'." I say with a smirk.

"That's correct, initiate. In our eyes, defeat is unacceptable because we're fighting for the future of mankind. Our rallying cry is more powerful than any weapon you could ever carry. Remember that. Now I need you to report to Haylen or Rhys for your next assignment. Dismissed."

Danse walks to the hall and behind the counter as Haylen walks over to me.

"Sorry about Rhys. He's a little harsh, but he's not a bad guy. He's just looking out for the Brotherhood. So, are you ready for your first assignment?"

"I, I don't mean to be rude, but could I sleep first?" I check the time on my Pip-Boy. 2am. "First thing in the morning I'll be ready, I just, I think it's been two days since I actually got some sleep," I admit, a yawn stretching my mouth almost in response.

"Sure thing, Anna. There are some extra mattresses in the room directly across the hall," Haylen replies kindly. Rhys could learn a thing or two from her.

I walk into the room and immediately pull off bits of armor from my shoulders, legs, and chest. I quickly shed my flannel shirt, growing hot, and pull on my undershirt. I then slide off my jeans and take an old sleeping bag and lay it over the mattress. I crawl inside as Dogmeat snuggles against my legs, slowly pushing them off the bed to give himself extra room. I can't help but laugh.

"Dogmeat, you are such a hog," I say, pushing him back with my feets. He barks at me and nuzzles my foot before laying his head back down and going to sleep. As soon as I lay my head down, I find myself drifting off to sleep.

All I dream about is this Institute. Finding Shaun.

I wake up in a hospitable bed, surrounded by synths. They all hold their institute rifles. The room is bright and through the spaces between the synths, I can see Shaun, laying in his crib alone, crying. I try to get up from the bed but my arms are strapped onto the bed. I continue to struggle until one of the synths aims at me. I start to cry.

"Ma'am, you need to calm down or your probability of survival will be unlikely," It says in its robotic, monotonous voice.

That's when I notice the man from vault 111 approaching Shaun's crib. He starts to cry even louder.

"Please, my, my baby. That's my baby!" I shout.

"Ma'am, you will be pacified with deadly force if you do not cooperate." The synth says to me, stepping closer. The rest of the synths aim their rifles at me.

The man looks at me and smiles, before picking up Shaun. Shaun starts to wail now.

"NO!" I scream as he walks away with Shaun. "THAT'S MY BABY, GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!" I shriek, crying hysterically. A blue flash blinds my vision as the synth shoots me in the head.

I wake up, shaking. Sweat covers my body and I realize that my fists are clenched. Danse runs into the room, no longer in his power armor.

"Initiate Anna! Are you okay?" He says, coming over to the bed a kneeling down beside me. I immediately start sobbing, falling forward onto my hands. I cry and cry and then I curl up into a ball and continue to sob. Even through my tears I hear the footsteps of Haylen and Rhys entering the room. I cover my face with my hands, feeling immediately ashamed. The three were all seeing me cry like this, in nothing but an oversized undershirt.

"Sir, look at her arms," I hear Haylen say with a gasp.

"Haylen, Rhys, leave the room now! Annalise, I need you to sit up," Danse orders. I force myself to cry silently and sit up, tears continuing to pour from my eyes. As I sit up, I look Danse in the eyes. He looks overwhelmed. "Let me see your arms," he says gently. I immediately hug my arms into my chest and look away. "That's an order initiate."

I slowly extend my arms and Danse's eyes are immediately filled with horror.

"My, my son. They kidnapped my son and killed my husband. The institute has him. They have to have him. He was just an infant when they took him. I don't even know how long ago he was taken from me," I say, tears no longer falling down my face.

"What do you mean you don't know how long ago he was kidnapped?" Danse asks, looking away from my arms and at me instead.

"I was frozen, in these cryopods, back before the war. Before the bombs fell. When the nuclear bombs were dropped we were all rushed inside Vault 111 and they told us they were just going to decontaminate us but instead they froze us in these pods. I only unfroze two months ago. While I was frozen, someone took my son and killed my husband and I was trapped in the pod. I was the only survivor and I have no idea why. I lost my boy and I don't even know if he's alive or where he is, but I know the institute must have kidnapped him."

"We can discuss this later. These wounds are clearly infected. How long have they been looking like this?" Danse asks.

"I don't know," I admit. "I didn't want to look at them or face them. They're disgusting," I say with more contempt than I intended.

"Scribe Haylen needs to look at these and get them cleaned up. With cuts these severe in this wasteland, leaving them untreated could cost you your life."

I want to tell him that I don't care. To hell with my life. I don't want it anymore. I don't want to feel this pain anymore. I don't want to feel so alone. Danse leaves and sends in Haylen. She brings a med kit with her.

"Do... Do you want to talk about it?" She asks as she gets some bandages, peroxide, and a tube of a topic antibacterial.

"These all look prewar," I say, ignoring her question. "How have they held up so nicely?"

"Back in the Capital Wasteland, there was a prewar military base hidden underground along with a nice suit of power armor and a few plasma weapons. There was this girl, a few years older than you. Her name was Lucille but everyone referred to her as the 'Lone Wanderer'. She helped the Brotherhood defeat the Enclave and restore pure water to the Capital Wastes. I was just a teen when she first came to the Citadel." Haylen takes out the bottle of peroxide and soaks a gauze pad with it. I wince as she starts to clean my arms.

"She did all kinds of things for the wasteland. She saved an orphaned kid named Bryan, she disarmed an undetonated nuclear bomb in the center of a town called Megaton. She was born in the wastes but her dad took her to a vault, vault 101. When she was 19 her dad escaped and she followed him. Her father, James, was the main creator of Project Purity and Lucille followed in his footsteps after he passed to get clean water to the wasteland and destroy the Enclave." 

Haylen finishes her story as she's done wrapping bandages around my arms.

"I hope that's not too tight. I'll change them again tomorrow."

"Thank you, Haylen," I force myself to say after a moment. "I'm ready for my assignment."

"Are you sure?" Haylen questions, giving me a doubtful look. "Well, part of the Brotherhood is restoring old tech, to keep it out of the wrong hands, and to help the people of the Commonwealth. I have some information on a pre war location. All you need to do is go to the location, locate and secure the tech, and bring it back here."

"That sounds easy enough," I say as I stand up. It isn't until then that I remember I haven't been wearing any pants. I quickly grab my jeans and pull them on.

"If you'd like, I can get you a Brotherhood uniform. It's the orange and white jumpsuit that Rhys is wearing. It might suit you better than running around in jeans, and it'll keep the bandages in place and prevent them from getting any worse, unlike your t-shirt."

I nod my head and then sit back down on the mattress, petting Dogmeat. He whines at me and nuzzles my hand. It's like he can sense how much emotional distress I'm in. I pull him closer to me and fall back asleep.


End file.
